Ought not the protectionist to blush at the part he would make society play?

He says to it, “You must give me work, and, more than that, lucrative work.  I have foolishly fixed upon a trade by which I lose ten per cent.  If you impose a tax of twenty francs upon my countrymen, and give it to me, I shall be a gainer instead of a loser.  Now, profit is my right; you owe it me.”  Now, any society which would listen to this sophist, burden itself with taxes to satisfy him, and not perceive that the loss to which any trade is exposed is no less a loss when others are forced to make up for it,—­such a society, I say, would deserve the burden inflicted upon it.

Thus we learn by the numerous subjects which I have treated, that, to be ignorant of political economy is to allow ourselves to be dazzled by the immediate effect of a phenomenon; to be acquainted with it is to embrace in thought and in forethought the whole compass of effects.

I might subject a host of other questions to the same test; but I shrink from the monotony of a constantly uniform demonstration, and I conclude by applying to political economy what Chateaubriand says of history:—­

“There are,” he says, “two consequences in history; an immediate one, which is instantly recognized, and one in the distance, which is not at first perceived.  These consequences often contradict each other; the former are the results of our own limited wisdom, the latter, those of that wisdom which endures.  The providential event appears after the human event.  God rises up behind men.  Deny, if you will, the supreme counsel; disown its action; dispute about words; designate, by the term, force of circumstances, or reason, what the vulgar call Providence; but look to the end of an accomplished fact, and you will see that it has always produced the contrary of what was expected from it, if it was not established at first upon morality and justice.”—­Chateaubriand’s Posthumous Memoirs.

Government.

I wish some one would offer a prize—­not of a hundred francs, but of a million, with crowns, medals and ribbons—­for a good, simple and intelligible definition of the word “Government.”

What an immense service it would confer on society!

The Government! what is it? where is it? what does it do? what ought it to do?  All we know is, that it is a mysterious personage; and, assuredly, it is the most solicited, the most tormented, the most overwhelmed, the most admired, the most accused, the most invoked, and the most provoked, of any personage in the world.

I have not the pleasure of knowing my reader, but I would stake ten to one, that for six months he has been making Utopias, and if so, that he is looking to Government for the realization of them.

And should the reader happen to be a lady, I have no doubt that she is sincerely desirous of seeing all the evils of suffering humanity remedied, and that she thinks this might easily be done, if Government would only undertake it.